


A Little Taste of Harry

by Quill_lumos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, First Time, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-31
Updated: 2008-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill_lumos/pseuds/Quill_lumos
Summary: After the battle with Voldemort Harry can not stop thinking of Severus lying alone at the Shrieking Shack and heads off alone to bring Severus’ body home. But Severus Snape is anything but helpless and Harry might be in danger, once again, of loosing his life.  Involves Vampire!Snape and Virgin!Harry





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Additional Warnings: Vampires, biting, blood sharing, little bit of OOC ness, but hey, it’s Harry’s first time.

Disclaimer I do not own anything Harry Potter related, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and their assigns. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. 

Author's Note: I stepped in as a last minute pinch hit for the Snarry smut_swap last year with this story, it was written, in a hurry to suit Irisgirl's requests. But I was never that happy with it (though I hope irisgirl was!). So Cyndie and I have been working on it and extending a little. I'm posting it now because the fest starts again tomorrow, so this is my way of pimping the fest. here 

Many thanks to Cyndie for being your usual wonderful self and helping make this story so much better than it was. Any mistakes are my own.

 

 

A Little Taste of Harry

 

The room was totally dark, silent, except for the very slow, even beat of a heart. 

Severus’ heart.

Such slow paced rhythmic beating wasn’t normal, not for a human heart. But then, Severus wasn’t totally human.

Severus’ maternal grandfather had been a vampire, still was a vampire, come to that. Vampires lived much longer than humans and, somewhere in Eastern Europe, Severus’ grandfather lived on. 

As, apparently, did Severus. For now at least.

Severus had no choice but to stay just where he was – lying on the dirty, dusty floor until someone came by. His body had shut down, leaving him in a sort of stasis. When Potter had been there earlier, Severus had been sure he was dying, but it seemed he was wrong. Apparently there was more vampire in Severus than anyone had suspected, himself included, and it was that part of him that would ensure survival. But for survival he needed blood.

A true vampire, like his grandfather, or even a half-vampire like his mother, needed to feed on whole, fresh blood, not necessarily human blood, but blood. Because of this, any wounds encountered would heal rapidly, almost instantly, on their own. How often a vampire fed depended on how old and how strong they were. Very old vampires, such as his grandfather, could last for many months, even years without feeding. 

Severus, being only ¼ vampire, did not need a steady source of fresh blood to exist; he could eat ordinary food, getting all the blood he needed from rare meat and the occasional blood-lolly; and although he shared some other traits of full-vampires, instant regeneration from wounds was not one of them; thus, serious injuries, if not treated, could prove fatal.

Under the present circumstances he wasn’t at all certain how much time he had left. All he really knew was that he wasn’t dead yet and that meant he had a chance at survival. He also knew he needed blood… and soon!

The hours ticked by as the night deepened and alone, in the darkness, Severus waited.

************

Harry could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes a thousand images marched through his mind. He sighed, kicked his blankets off and threw his arm up over his head. His pillow felt like a rock and the bed was lumpy. He could hear the breathing of the others who had crashed for the night in the Gryffindor dorm, too tired, too stunned by the battle to think about going home.

He could hear Seamus snoring gently as Neville’s whickering breaths contrasted with Ron’s deep, even breathing. Only the deep-sleep noises made by Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were unfamiliar, as unfamiliar as the two beds that had appeared from nowhere in order to accommodate them. 

Those two had been a surprise; they, along with Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass, had stayed on and fought against Voldemort. Harry thought with grim amusement of the shock these events had given Ron who was still unable to reconcile them; but then, so many things they had all believed to be true had been turned on end this night, hadn’t they?

The biggest shock of all, in Harry’s opinion, had been Snape.

Harry could not stop thinking about him, lying all alone in the ramshackle building. It didn’t seem right somehow. Snape deserved more than that, even if he was no longer alive. 

Ten minutes later found Harry dressed and heading down to the Shrieking Shack. He didn’t wake Hermione or Ron; they had been there with him every step of the way, but this was something he felt he had to do alone. He owed it to Snape.

The night was beautiful, starry and still. There was a tinge of warmth to the air that so many of the nights he, Ron and Hermione had spent looking for the Horcruxes in their tattered tent had lacked. He couldn’t help but wish the weather had been this kind when they had been sleeping under canvas every night.

It was safe now: all of Voldemort’s inner circle, well, the ones still living that is, were somewhere in the depths of the Ministry under restraining spells. Kingsley had informed him of this soon after the battle ended…when they had met to exchange information. He was still shocked that the grounds of Hogwarts castle were now safe enough to walk around at night. He had been in danger for so long; but no longer, now he could be normal just like everyone else. And what better way to celebrate his new found freedom than by walking to the Shrieking Shack in search of Severus Snape. He didn’t want to be closed in or confined, not tonight. Tonight he wanted to see the sky.

The Shack seemed so much closer than it used to when he was younger. He reached it after barely twenty minutes of walking, or maybe he was just so much fitter than he had ever been before? The building looked pathetic, so ramshackle and rundown. Harry was sure a strong wind would blow it to smithereens. 

He always felt more than a pang of sympathy when he thought of Remus just starting at Hogwarts, shut up here every month… all on his own, terrified and lonely. Poor Remus! The man had endured such hardships in his life; it seemed so harsh that both he and Tonks had lost their lives, leaving Teddy alone and orphaned, just like Harry had been. But the difference was that Teddy had his grandmother, and he had Harry. Teddy would not have the sort of childhood Harry had suffered – Harry would not allow it.

Standing now in front of the Shrieking Shack, he thought again of the shades of the people who had accompanied him on his journey to fight Voldemort: James and Lily, Sirius and Remus. In his mind’s eye they suddenly seemed so young to him; they could have been his friends not his parents and mentors. It was hard for him to remember that his father had not always been a good person. The way James and his friends had treated Snape was still painful for Harry to accept. 

Yet, at the same time they were bullying Snape, they were also making a young werewolf’s life bearable. James and Sirius had performed an incredible feat of magic in order that Remus would not suffer alone his whole time at Hogwarts. But the very fact that they were so kind and caring, so unprejudiced towards a werewolf, who was hated and despised by most wizards, made their intolerable behaviour towards Severus Snape even more inexplicable as far as Harry was concerned. Harry’s one consolation was that the man James had become as he matured to adulthood was a good and decent one. He believed this to be true of Remus also; of Sirius he was not so sure. Sirius had been so damaged by Azkaban, perhaps he would have matured, become someone Harry could admire as well as love - if he’d lived. It was still one of Harry’s biggest regrets that he’d never really had enough time to get to know his Godfather. He sighed. Ah well, at least they were all together again now, the Marauders reunited in their own version of Dumbledore’s greatest adventure of all.

He stared at the Shack again, steeling himself to go inside and see him. Severus Snape. 

Harry felt a pang of sorrow at the thought that Snape’s body lay cold and alone in this benighted place. He should have organised a search earlier; he should have found someone to come and help move Snape so that he was with the others who had died fighting Voldemort, so that he wasn’t alone anymore.

Slowly Harry pushed open the door to the Shrieking Shack. It wasn’t locked and Harry doubted that it had been for a very long time. The door creaked as it opened and Harry had to fight down a mad giggle; it was just like one of those daft films that Dudley had watched when they were children. _Hammer House of Horror,_ films that were full of corny plots and cardboard sets, heroines who wore flowing gowns and had masses of backcombed hair. Harry giggled again, a little nervously this time, though he would never admit to his trepidation. He remembered they had thought Snape was a vampire when he was in first year. This was the perfect setting for the un-dead, Harry told himself with a small smile. But really, Snape, a vampire! How foolish one could be in one’s youth, Harry thought, as he gingerly made his way inside.

 

***********

 

Severus could feel someone coming and opened his eyes. The steady thump, thump, thump of a heart aroused his hunger and he licked his lips in anticipation. He hadn’t tasted human blood very often in his short life, and he had never drunk directly from a person. His mother had needed to feed only rarely, being more interested in denying her heritage than in embracing it, and had never included Severus on her hunts, stating that “what her son didn’t need, he didn’t need to learn”. As for his grandfather, the old vampire had never wanted much to do with Severus and more or less ignored him. He had scorned the young boy, thinking him to be too much like his Muggle father… something Severus would always strenuously deny. Not that his grandfather had ever given him a chance to deny anything. The upshot of this being that Severus learned little of the needs and skills that ensured the survival of the vampire race.

And it meant that now, when he really needed to know what to do in order to survive without killing what would be an unwilling food source, he would have to depend totally on his instincts. He had never been in this position before.

All he knew was that he needed blood and he needed it soon. He could smell and hear and almost taste someone coming towards him now; someone who smelt wonderful, whose heart rate was elevated, whose breath was shallow and slightly panicky. Someone who was alone.

His own heartbeat was gradually becoming more rapid. It was filling his ears so that he felt rather than heard the person who had entered coming ever closer. A sort of red mist blinded his eyes. His awareness narrowed to a desperate, ravenous need to taste that sweet substance, so much so that he could almost feel it thrumming in the veins of his prey.

His prey. 

Severus had never really felt like a real vampire at all; he had enjoyed the extra strength he seemed to have in abundance, the limited healing powers, and the ability to transform into any one of a plethora of creatures of the night that his heritage had given him. But he had never before felt such need, such raw desire to feed, such _hunger_.

He felt warm breath on his cheek and a hand on his chest. Someone stroked his hair, and for a second Severus wanted to just lay there and let the sweet, gentle touches continue, but he had a greater need; the need to survive. He took a deep, sustaining breath, giving in to the instinct long buried deep inside him. In a flash of movement so swift the unwary victim never saw a thing, he grabbed the man looming over him, for man it was, and, using the advantage that surprise had given him, wrestled his prey to the floor. In his frenzy to feed he barely noticed the astonished squeak that issued from his quarry nor the clatter of a wand falling to the ground, for at long last, like a wanderer in the desert finally reaching water, Severus sank his fangs into soft, yielding flesh and drank long and deep.

 

************

 

Harry thought the Shack looked more and more like a corny horror film as each moment went by. He half expected to see some man playing one of those old fashioned pipe organ thingies. What was the name of that guy? Bela, something? Bela Languini? Lamborgini? Lugosi! That was it, Bela Lugosi! Why it was important to remember that, Harry didn’t know, but perhaps it kept him from focussing on his nerves. Very little scared him anymore; Harry had faced everything from giant spiders to Basilisks to Voldemort himself, but here, in this place, everything was different and it left him feeling chilled to the bone. This building was seriously spooky at night; perhaps because a man had died horribly within its walls? Harry wasn’t sure of the reason. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be here, really, and he wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for the debt he owed to Severus Snape.

Harry pushed open a battered door and all at once, there he was, lying in a corner like so many discarded rags. Harry felt overwhelmed with sadness; the man had given up too much to end in such a way. He walked slowly across the room and knelt down beside the body. It didn’t seem right somehow, seeing Snape so still. The man had always commanded boundless energy. Okay, so most of that energy had been directed at making Harry as miserable as possible; but the stillness of death seemed to rob the Potions master of his power, leaving him looking so young, so helpless without it, and a helpless Snape was something Harry just could not wrap his mind around. Without his features twisted into a sneer or contorted with anger, he almost looked handsome; his dark eyes were open, staring at nothing, his strong features still at last. Who would have thought his lashes were so long? Or that his lower lip was so much fuller in repose? Or that his brows would be so arched and perfect?

Harry wanted to touch him but he was frightened the man would be cold.

Tentatively he reached out a hand to stoke the long, dark hair; it wasn’t nearly as greasy as it looked. It felt quite silky under his fingers. His other hand rested on Severus’ chest, now forever quiet. 

Suddenly the chest moved, rising under his hand. Severus Snape breathed.

“Professor?” came Harry’s shocked whisper.

All at once he was flying through the air with astonishing rapidity, until he landed on his back with a painful crack. He found himself pinned him to the floor, his wrists held in a vice like grip.

“Fuck, that was fast!” Harry thought, his last coherent thought before something sharp pierced the skin of his neck and he was overwhelmed with sensation. A myriad of lights in a multitude of colours seemed to explode in his brain, and everything was still and peaceful. Harry felt warm, and safe, and totally blissful. His eyes felt heavy, wonderfully heavy, and the oncoming darkness welcomed him like a sweet caress.

 

************

 

Severus was lost in the sheer deliciousness that was overwhelming him. He had never felt anything like this before. Whoever he was drinking from was full of light, full of magic. It was wonderful. Severus felt better than he had in years: stronger, younger. But something was nagging unrelentingly at the back of his brain.

He had had no training. No one had ever taught Severus how to use his abilities, how to feed carefully, taking just enough. His mother had tried desperately to deny her heritage, and by extension, his. He had learned to transform by trial and error, he had learned to extend his fangs to feed and to retract them when he was gorged full of blood. At this moment, however, some instinct was telling him, and rather urgently, that he had to stop…now! If he didn’t…it would be too late, too late for the hapless victim he was drinking from, whomever it might be.

Severus Snape was not necessarily a good man, but he had never killed anyone voluntarily, never in cold blood. Blood, shit, blood!

Realising that he had taken too much, he stopped feeding and sat up. His breathing was rapid and shallow but he felt invincible, stronger, more powerful than he had ever felt before. 

As the mist, which had overtaken his vision cleared, Severus could see again. He looked down.

It was a boy lying on the floor in front of him – a boy whose head was tilted backwards exposing a slim white throat, a throat blemished by puncture wounds. Full lips were parted slightly, cheeks as pale as the boy’s throat, messy dark hair covering the scar Severus knew marred an otherwise perfect forehead.

“Fucking hell!” Severus groaned. “It would bloody have to be him, wouldn’t it?”

 

***********

 

Severus had always been strong, but the boy he had carried, as he transported them to his home, weighed far less than any seventeen-year-old should. He seemed so fragile lying on the bed in the rundown back-bedroom at Spinner’s End. Fragile, but beautiful. Because he was beautiful…no doubt about that.

Potter had grown up so much since last June, which had been the last time Severus had spent any time in his company. He was taller, although still not as tall as Severus, and his boyish frame had become more solid. Not that Severus could see much of his body beneath the thick robe the boy was still wearing. He _wanted_ to see more, though, and wasn’t that strange?

The shock of discovering it was Potter he had been snacking on, had almost paralysed Severus. Upon realising the boy’s heart still beat, albeit somewhat slowly, he had panicked, grabbed the boy and Apparated to Spinner’s End whereupon he had stuffed an unconscious Potter as full of Blood-Replenishing Potion as he could possibly manage. Now, several hours later, he didn’t think the boy was going to die, or even worse _turn,_ but he didn’t seem likely to be waking up any time soon, either.

Severus sighed deeply and turned back to his book, chosen from a small pile stacked beside him. He was desperately trying to research what to do next. He knew he needed to give Potter some of his own blood, but he had to be careful. If he gave him the blood too soon, if Potter’s heartbeat was too slow, there was a real danger the boy would be turned; and there was no way Severus wanted to be responsible for turning the-Hero-of-the-wizarding-world into a vampire. But if he gave him no blood at all then there was still the possibility that the boy might not regain consciousness.

So he’d waiting, torn, trying to decide what to do for the best. Until, finally, the boy had been unconscious for more than six hours and Severus thought it was time to give him some blood after all.

Severus took out his potions knife and cut a small slit into the skin of his wrist. He moved over to sit on the bed beside the boy, placed the wound against the boy’s lips, and then he waited. He couldn’t force the boy to drink, as he had with the Blood-Replenishing Potion, by holding his nose to force his mouth open and then furiously massaging his throat. For the blood to work it’s magic, it had to be taken willingly. The only way he could get the fluid into Potter was to open a wound, and wait for the boy to suck.

Potter’s blood loss had been so extensive that he had come within a hairsbreadth of dying; he could still have brain damage – not that anyone would notice, Severus thought caustically. But it would have been a pity if Potter had died, after surviving his confrontation with the Dark Lord. At least Severus assumed the final confrontation had taken place, as Potter was still alive and no one had turned up looking for him. He also thought his Dark Mark was beginning to fade, but he wouldn’t really know until Potter awoke. Hated and despised as he had been since fleeing Hogwarts, there was no way Severus was risking a sortie into the outside world to find out for himself.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment and sighed deeply. It all seemed so hard. Hours before he had been desperate to survive, to live. But now that he had recovered his strength and his equilibrium, he couldn’t help but think it might have been better if he hadn’t survived for who on this earth, now that Albus was no longer here, would be glad that he’d survived? 

Potter slumbered on. 

“Come on. _Come on!_ ” Severus hissed through clenched teeth. The cut was not bleeding very much, just a warm trickle of blood oozed out. Potter’s lips were parted very slightly. Severus watched carefully as they were washed with red. Slowly, after what seemed like an age, the boy swallowed and then he moaned.

The moan went straight to Severus’ groin and, worst of all, he felt his cock harden. When Severus had last seen Potter for any length of time, he had been a scrawny little boy who looked far too much like his long, dead father. But somewhere in the time between then and now, the little boy had grown up to be a man, and what a man he was. Harry Potter was quite frankly gorgeous, absolutely, fucking gorgeous. Sitting so close to the boy… man…boy…it was all Severus could do not to pull back the robes that covered him and explore the firm, compact body he was sure resided within. He shook his head. What the fuck was happening to him? Normally Severus had firm control of his libido, he never allowed himself to become aroused like this.

When puberty had hit Severus around the age of 13, along with it had come the knowledge that he was bi-sexual but with a slight preference toward the male gender. He had loved Lily Evans (he refused to accept that she had been Lily Potter at the time of her demise; she would always be Lily Evans to him). He liked to think of his love for Lily as being pure, the love of a childhood friend. Sexually, he fell for a firm chest, a neat arse and dark, tousled hair. Lily had been his ideal female but Severus’ ideal partner wasn’t female at all. His ideal partner right now appeared to be Harry Bloody Potter. 

Lifting his hand to the boy’s face the ex-Headmaster softly stroked a pale, silky cheek, causing Potter to moan again. Then a small, pink tongue poked out, seeking more blood.

It was Severus’ turn to moan. His cock hardened even more. Potter’s tongue grew more adventurous and sought out the source of the new taste. Next the tongue laved the wound on Severus’ wrist, and then the boy moved; he reached up, eyes still shut tight, closed his sweet lips around the gap, and began to suck.

Severus gasped and came long and hard.

What the bloody hell was going on? He hadn’t had an orgasm as intense as this in years. He calmed his breathing with difficulty, at the same time noticing the sucking had stopped. Severus looked down at the boy only to see a pair of stunning, green eyes, revealed in all their glory, staring up at him with total astonishment.

“Er…hello…er…Professor Snape,” Potter said, his lips still tinged with the red of Severus’ blood. “I thought you were dead.”

 

************

 

Sometime later the boy was propped up in bed, sans the robe Severus had so badly wanted to remove earlier. This time Potter was covered only by a white t-shirt, thereby revealing strong shoulders and the firm chest Severus had suspected was there all along. He was also sipping yet another mug of tea Severus had procured for him from the grimy, back-kitchen downstairs. 

Resentment at playing the role of some sort of house-elf to Harry bloody Potter probably had something to do with the scowl plastered on Severus’ face as he watched the young man drink…the predicament he now found himself in accounted for the rest. He grudgingly admitted to himself that a cup of tea or two was the very least he owed the Potter brat; after all, he had leapt upon him, sucked him almost dry and then carried him off to Spinner’s End. 

Merlin’s balls, why did it have to be Potter who had stumbled upon him, of all the people it could have been? Why had Potter been the one to come and find him? If it had been a Death Eater, Severus would have had no compunction at all about draining them dry and leaving them where they lay. He would only have felt a brief twinge of guilt had it been anyone else on the whole, bloody planet. 

But no, it had to be Potter, thought Severus, pinching the bridge of his nose hoping to mitigate the pounding in his head that was threatening to overwhelm him. Why oh why, had he given the brat his own blood when he did; why hadn’t he finished the chapter…why hadn’t he finished the whole bloody book! Why…why…why…and what the fuck was he going to do now? 

All of his adult life Severus had been careful in his actions; he had deliberated long and hard before making any decisions, because the only time he had acted impetuously he had followed his childhood hero, Lucius Malfoy, into the service of the Dark Lord. That had really sent his life to Hell in a hand-basket. But there was something about Potter that called to him, something he could not resist, something that made him throw caution to the winds. 

So he had followed his instincts, instincts that whilst powerful were still only half formed; he had given in to the desire to keep the boy close and, in his anxiety to make sure Potter survived, had made a disastrous miscalculation…one which he feared he’d be paying for the rest of his life. A miscalculation which would affect them both and which he now had to confess the consequences of, to Potter himself.

 

***********

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Harry said steadily, because he really didn’t see the point of losing his temper just yet. “You are some sort of trainee vampire and because you were dying and you had never even drunk human blood before, you accidentally took too much from me.” Harry paused a moment to consider before continuing, “So then you gave me some Blood Replenishing Potions to help me recover, but because I didn’t seem to be recovering and because the books you read all disagree with each other, you gave me your own blood too early and then, because I am ‘a greedy little git’ who took too much blood after you had _shoved your arm in my mouth,_ we are now bonded somehow. We are fucking _married?”_

Snape’s lips curled into a snarl and Harry had to keep telling himself that his ex-professor did _not_ look hot. Severus Snape was a greasy git and that was that! He did not think Snape had lovely, long, slim thighs, or dark eyes that glittered with something Harry couldn’t quite identify, or strong, slim hands he desperately wanted to feel on his body.

“No, Potter,” Snape hissed, sending shivers of desire down Harry’s spine. “You still don’t listen, do you? You ignorant, arrogant child! We are not married. I…I…er…merely…um…somewhat in error, I might add, initiated a bond between us; a consort bond.”

“Okay,” Harry said, with a deep sigh, “so we have a bond. Fine. I can live with that. But right now I am going to go home…er…back to Hogwarts. Because I have had a pretty shitty couple of days, what with killing Voldemort and everything, and I…erm…I am glad you’re alive. I really am. But my friends will be worried and…er…yeah...” Harry trailed off weakly.

Snape sighed deeply.

“You can’t leave, Potter. We have to consummate the bond.”

Harry choked on his tea.

“We have to WHAT?” He felt like his insides had turned to water.

Snape’s snarl turned into what Harry could only describe as a feral smile.

“Yes, Mr. Potter. I assume I do not have to explain to you what consummate means?”

“Oh, piss off!” Harry said nastily. “You can’t even be nice to me when you’re trying to get into my bloody pants!”

“I assure you, Mr. Potter, I have no desire of getting into your undoubtedly grubby, undergarments. Unfortunately, if we do not have sex, according to this book, we will both sicken and eventually we will die.”

“Oh, fuck!” Harry said.

“Exactly, Mr. Potter,” Snape whispered, his smile widening.

*************

Severus could not deny the emotions he was experiencing, and what he felt was suffused with desire; the boy was just too delicious. Those eyes! They were wonderful, so full of life and emotion, so like Lily’s. Somewhere during the journey to Spinner’s End, the boy had lost those hideous glasses, which tended to dominate his face and make him look even more like his odious father. The face beneath the thick frames, however, was quite simply divine; it was irresistible. 

Severus had been Sorted into Slytherin for many reasons. One of the key characteristics of Slytherin was opportunism. Severus may not have meant to do this, may not have meant to bond with Harry Potter, but the boy was delectable and Severus was not going to ‘look a gift horse, etc’ – no, this was going to be very enjoyable indeed and he intended to take full advantage of the situation.

Potter swallowed hard. Severus watched the boy’s Adam’s apple bob as Potter parted his lips and let out a deep sigh.

He lowered his eyes again, hiding the glorious emerald irises beneath long, sable lashes.

“There’s no other option?” he asked.

Severus felt a jolt of disappointment, but then he shouldn’t have been surprised. Why would the Gryffindor Golden Boy want to sleep with him? 

“We can look through some more books, futilely trying to find an alternative,” spat out the Slytherin harshly. “Or we could try and contact my grandfather, who has never even acknowledged me; or my mother, who refuses to acknowledge what she is, what I am. 

“The problem is, Potter, I _know_ it is necessary. As soon as I read that we needed to consummate the bond, I _knew!_ I can feel the link, the need, growing between us. It’s the only way open to us, unless we want to die. And believe me, I wouldn’t be saying this if it were not necessary because you are the last person with whom I would wish to have such a link.”

The boy flinched and looked down at the hands he held clenched in his lap. Severus wished he could take the words back, because they were not true and he hadn’t meant them at all. For some reason, he did not enjoy causing the boy pain the way he usually did.

But Potter obviously believed he had spoken the truth. His reply was couched in a deeply saddened tone, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Probably the last thing you want to do is sleep with me.” 

The words spoken sounded so bitter and Severus couldn’t help a small gasp of astonishment escaping his lips. Surely the boy had no reason to sound like that; he had the world at his feet, didn’t he? Everyone would want to sleep with Harry Potter. Surely the stupid boy knew that? But seemingly, he did not, because his next words were spoken in the same tone, though this time the boy softened them with the saddest smile Severus had ever seen.

“What do we have to do?” 

White teeth bit into a full, pink lower lip, and Severus shuddered. He wanted to touch those lips, run his tongue over them, taste them for himself. But he wasn’t going to say any of that to this arrogant child – although, he had to admit to himself there was nothing remotely arrogant about Potter at the moment.

“What do you think?” he snapped.

Potter paled.

“How do we? Can we…um, do we? Oh, shit.”

The boy ran a hand through dark, messy hair and looked directly at Severus. The expression was so needy, and yet so hopelessly brave. Potter might not like it, undoubtedly he would hate being fucked by his detested Potions Professor, but he would do it, foolishly impulsive Gryffindor that he was. But the look in his eyes! Severus felt burned by that hot gaze, and he shuddered again.

It was at this moment Potter uttered an admission that shook him to his foundations, something he could never have postulated in a thousand years.

“Look,” Potter stuttered, “I’ve…um…I’ve never…er…you know, done it before.”

Shocked, stunned, speechless, Severus was sure that he looked like nothing so much as a giant myopic bat with glazed eyes and gaping mouth. This time there were so many emotions flitting through the boy’s dark, green eyes that he simply could not read them all: trepidation, shyness, and was that a tiny bit of curiosity?

The boy was a virgin? 

Of course he wasn’t. He was the shining star of Gryffindor! He’d probably screwed half the school; he’d certainly been very close, indeed, to the Weasley chit. 

Regaining some of his composure and finding his voice, Severus began, his lips twisting into a familiar sneer, “Surely you and Miss Weasley...?” 

Harry shook his head and he blushed. “No,” he whispered. “I have never…not with anyone.”

“Oh, Merlin!” Severus exclaimed. 

He couldn’t help the thrill that ran through him. It was as if all his dreams had come true, dreams he had barely dared to dream and had certainly never dared to remember when the daylight came. This boy, this boy, had never been with anyone. Harry Potter, recklessly brave and spectacularly beautiful, who was trembling slightly with understandable nervousness, was going to have sex with him, with little persuasion and no apparent disgust, and Severus would be his first. He wanted to yell with triumph. He wished James Potter was here so he would know that Severus Snape, Slytherin git, was putting his ‘dirty, greasy hands’ on his previously unsullied son.

Then, as he watched the boy shiver and bite his lip once more, something incredible happened. Harry looked so vulnerable, so impossibly fragile, so like his mother that something inside Severus melted, something that had been as hard as granite since Lily died. The boy was trusting him, trusting Severus with something precious and life altering. All at once, Severus knew he could not destroy that trust.

“It will be okay...Harry,” he said gently. “I will not hurt you…I will make it good for you. I promise I will.” He reached over and placed his hand on Harry’s smaller, paler one.

The boy swallowed again. “You called me Harry,” he whispered.

Potter made him feel something he’d not felt since… well, since Lily; something he never thought he’d feel again. He felt tenderness – perhaps from the strange bond growing between them; perhaps from the vulnerability the boy was demonstrating, a vulnerability he had never once displayed in all Severus’ experience of him. It was so unexpected and so precious to feel these feelings again, to see this other side of Harry, and Severus found he could not resist it. He did not want to resist it, he did not care from whence it came – he only wanted it to continue and to grow and to endure.

“Harry, we are about to do something incredibly intimate, the most intimate thing two people can do with each other. The very least that I can do is call you by your given name and ask you to call me by mine.”

Harry looked up. “You promise? It will be okay?” he whispered the words, pregnant with need.

This young man sounded so vulnerable, so incredibly sweet, so very unlike the boy he’d known at Hogwarts, that Severus could control himself no longer and, wrapping Harry in his arms, he kissed him gently but firmly on the mouth.

Harry shivered and leaned into the kiss. Tentatively, he reached up a hand and tentatively ran his fingers through the long, dark strands of Severus’ hair.

Carefully Severus grasped his wrist and moved the hand down and slowly backed away. Harry’s eyes widened.

“S-s-sorry,” he spluttered, “did I do something wrong?”

Severus smiled at him and Harry’s eyes widened even more.

“No, Harry, you did nothing wrong, nothing at all. It’s just, if we are to be lovers, then I want to wash, to be clean for you. We should take our time. I want to take this slowly.”

“Oh!”

The boy looked for a moment as if he were going to cry. His eyes became suspiciously moist, a sudden shimmer made the emerald seem to glow and then, a mere blink later, the tears had vanished.

Severus took the boy by his hands and gently pulled him to his feet. “Come with me.”

Harry followed. Severus led him to his bathroom. 

Other than Severus’ bedroom and bathroom, the rest of Spinner’s End was dirty and uncared for – because Severus wanted it that way, mostly to try and keep others away from his inner sanctum. Severus was an intensely private man; he did not share his inner-most thoughts or feeling with anyone, ever. He had few visitors and those few rarely got past the shabby sitting-room or the run-down kitchen. The room Harry had been inhabiting was the guest room, the very same room Peter Pettigrew had spent the previous summer sleeping in, and Severus had certainly not bothered to make it presentable for that stinking, little traitor. But he definitely knew it would not do for Harry’s first time. 

Harry’s first time should be special, and it was up to him to make it so.

He led the boy into his bedroom. This room was completely different from the rest of the house. It was clean and bright with white walls and soft bedding on an oak-wood bed. Years ago, he had filled this room with candles. They were charmed to light themselves and burn until he, and he alone, whispered the word _Nox._ They would illuminate the room, bathe it in a warm glow. A romantic glow. He would lay the boy on those crisp white sheets and make Harry’s first time wonderful.

This room was special to Severus, a sort of sanctuary. Although he had not stayed in it often over the past fifteen years – not nearly often enough he now realized – it had brought him peace and solace in times of desperate uncertainty and personal need. It had not been his plan to bring the boy here, but of course he knew now this was the only place he could take him. But first there was the cleansing process to attend to.

He led Harry through the room and into the en-suite bathroom, watching with amusement as the boy stood gazing around the room with mute astonishment, seemingly in awe of his surroundings. Like the bedroom, this room had candles floating throughout, reflecting off the gleaming fixtures with a soft glow. Soft scents filled the air. 

Severus gently steered Harry towards the large, roll-top bath, which had commenced filling upon their entrance. Whilst the bewildered boy continued to take in the room’s ambiance, Severus began to slowly and carefully undress him.

 

***********

 

Standing in the beautiful bath and feeling himself being stripped, Harry was at the very least astonished and at the most dumbfounded as he thought back over the events that had transpired. He had not expected the evening’s events at all. 

When he had awoken to find himself sucking Severus Snape’s arm, Harry thought he had died and gone to Hell. But other than that, the early part of the evening had been surprisingly pleasant, well at least it hadn’t ended in any permanent injury, for which Harry was grateful. 

When Harry had regained some strength they had begun to converse and had talked for what seemed like hours. Snape began by telling his story, which in the beginning sounded so totally implausible, so convoluted, in fact, that Harry had wanted to laugh. It sounded like the tale of a madman. It took him right back to first year and the wild rumours about Snape being a vampire. Apparently they hadn’t been so wild after all; in fact, they had almost been dead on target. But not completely. 

Of course, Harry was savvy enough to know there had to be a lot more to the story than Snape had told him. He had rather glossed over the bit about never meeting his grandfather, and the later bits where his mother denied their — what had Snape called it? Ah yes — _their affliction._ But Harry didn’t blame him for that, he didn’t think he would want to share such private matters either.

As his ex-Professor’s story unfolded, however, Harry remembered finding the man in the Shrieking Shack. He remembered the needle sharp teeth and the weird, half remembered dreams that mostly involved being passionately kissed by the man who was slowly, almost reverently, undressing him.

Next Harry had told Snape about the final battle, about seeing Albus and his parents, about his unease that evening and his need to find Snape. All this while the other man had watched him unblinkingly, his dark eyes glittering in the half light of the shabby bedroom in which they’d sat.

When Harry had finished his tale, he was confused. Even before Snape had told him they would have to sleep together, he had been pleasant to Harry. Well maybe not pleasant exactly, but pleasant for Snape; pleasant for a man whose life’s work had always seemed to be to belittle and snipe at Harry as often as possible. But not tonight. Oh, sure he had been rude and sarcastic and snappy, but he had also made Harry a cheese toasty and several cups of tea, and had even brought him some rather tired looking chocolate chip cookies. No one had ever looked after Harry like that, not that he could remember anyway.

When Harry had admitted his virginal status, he had expected the man to laugh at him, to throw it back at him with some snarky comment. But he hadn’t. His eyes had softened and he had looked at Harry with tenderness and concern, and Harry had almost come undone and blubbered all over him. Then Snape had kissed him and led him through a beautiful, candle-filled room into this wonderful bathroom. As soon as they had entered, the tub began to fill with steaming hot, scented water. It smelt wonderful, like lemons and lavender and sandalwood. Harry had closed his eyes and let the aroma wash over him.

And now, almost naked, Harry was feeling surprisingly vulnerable and shy, two feelings totally foreign to his nature. But then he supposed he had never stood on the threshold of losing his virginity before, either. Who would ever have thought Snape – of all people – would be his first, the one he would willingly sleep with? Or that he would feel so safe with the man? Comfortable enough to lower his barriers, something he had never done before. 

Harry thought he should probably call his ex-professor Severus from now on, even in his head. Because, if they were going to do _that_ together, then the Professor was right, they should use first names.

“Severus,” he whispered, trying out the name on his tongue. 

The man whose name he had uttered so unexpectedly looked up at him and smiled. Harry gasped; it was a surprisingly sweet smile. Severus was currently unzipping Harry’s trousers and pulling them down, and Harry let him.

Harry’d had to fight his entire life and so he was fiercely independent normally, but there was something intoxicating about letting this man undress him, take care of him. Severus was treating him as if he were precious, as if he were beautiful, and Harry thought it would be very easy to get used to that sort of treatment.

Then he felt himself swept up into strong arms, and for a moment he was disorientated. He didn’t remember ever being carried like this before. He reached over and wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and let his head lean in so his face nestled against the neck of the man who carried him. Gently, he was lowered into the warm, soapy water. Then Severus was kissing him again with firm, insistent lips. A warm wet mouth plundered Harry’s own. A long, slender tongue demanded entry, and Harry let it in. He felt totally overwhelmed but he simply closed his eyes and gave in to sensation. 

Harry had not seen much of the other man’s body as he was undressed and lowered into the bath, but he now ran his hands over the smooth skin of the man who was kissing him. Severus did not feel like Ginny had. Her skin was smoother even than this, but it was also softer. This man had long, slender arms, with just the right amount of hair on them. He was muscular and firm and very, very strong. Oh, Harry knew he could fight his professor off if he needed to. It would be a struggle, but he would prevail. However, he did not need to fight nor did he want to fight. He had put his trust in Severus and, though he could never have explained why if anyone had asked him, he was confident Severus would not let him down.

 

***********

 

The boy was beautiful, no doubt about it. He glowed as candle-light flickered over his pale skin while the layers of clothing came off. Slowly, reverently, Severus removed garment after garment. He vanished his own clothing, but he wanted to unwrap Harry step by step, reveal the beauty within the somewhat tattered clothing the boy was wearing, torn as it was and covered in bloodstains. Stains from Harry’s blood, blood that had leaked out when Severus had finished feeding, before he had sealed the wound with his tongue.

Gently Severus stroked the smooth skin, awestruck by the boy’s masculine beauty; Harry had truly become a man. Severus revelled in the firm, flat tummy, the strong chest and shoulders, the long, slim cock that emerged proud and hard from a mass of dark curls. Severus wanted to call out with the sheer joy of it. This was for him; the boy was hard because of him and what he was doing. 

He wanted to lean over and lick that delicious looking cock; he wanted to take it in his mouth and swallow it whole; he wanted a little taste of Harry. But he was a patient man, he told himself, as his own cock weighed heavy against his thigh. He could wait.

Still moving slowly, Severus drew Harry’s trousers down his long, slim thighs, and the boy spoke, just one word, the first word he had uttered since Severus had led him here.

“Severus,” he whispered in sibilant tones. 

Just the sound of his name on Harry’s lips was almost enough to make him come. But no, not yet, he was not ready yet. He would not come tonight until his cock was buried in that sweet, firm arse.

He swept the boy up into his arms; the young man weighed not much more than a full cauldron. Severus was very strong, mostly due to his vampire heritage, an attribute without which he would never have survived the last few years. For a second, Harry stiffened as if this was unfamiliar to him, then he wrapped an arm around Severus’ neck and nuzzled against him, and Severus was nearly undone. He had done little to earn such trust, he told himself, but he promised he would prove worthy of it.

In the bath they kissed again, and Harry brought his hands up to stroke Severus, and Severus let him. The boy was kneeling in front of Severus, caressing him with hot, tender touches; yet at the same time the hands were shy and tentative. It was frustrating to the point of madness. He wanted to be out of the bath and buried deep inside the younger man, pounding into him, drawing out more of the sweet little sounds the boy was making. He could feel Harry’s hard cock rubbing against his own.

Severus began rinsing lather from his young man’s hair, which action caused Harry to rapidly increase his bucking hips, which in turn caused their turgid cocks to slam together. Involuntarily the young Gryffindor’s fingers dug into Severus’ back and he was coming…Hard… his orgasm crashing over him out-with his control. The short, blunt nails could do little real damage but Severus knew that he would feel it tomorrow.

As the young wizard returned from climatic bliss, Severus noticed the boy’s head thrown back, exposing his throat. Did he know he was submitting to Severus by doing this? That he was offering his most vulnerable part to a vampire? Severus thought not, but glanced down at Harry and changed his mind. The emerald eyes were heavy with arousal, with passion, and with something else. 

“Oh, yes, you do know what you are doing don’t you, my little virgin boy?” Severus whispered in Harry’s ear. “You know exactly what you have just offered me?”

“Mmmmmm,” Harry said, and then threw back his head again.

Severus could wait no longer. The boy was slippery against him, warm and slicked with oil. Severus stood again with Harry in his arms, only this time Harry was wrapped around him, his legs clenched around Severus’ waist, his arms about his neck. How he got them out of the bath and onto the bed, Severus would never know for sure. He half thought he had Apparated. Within seconds, the boy was propped back on soft pillows and Severus was licking and kissing and caressing.

Harry was whimpering, pleading his need, his desire. 

“Do you want me to come inside you, Harry?” Severus crooned, his deep, silky voice at its sexiest.

“Oh, yes, yes please!” Harry moaned.

Severus reached over and grabbed the jar of lubricant from inside the drawer of the bedside table. Carefully he slicked a finger with the warm, slippery concoction and then, oh so slowly, he pushed it into the tight little rosebud that was the entrance to Harry’s arse.

“Oh!” the boy breathed as Severus gently, but firmly, pushed his way in. 

Merlin, he wanted to be inside that velvety hotness, and he wanted to be in there now. But no, he must not rush. First another finger, and then one more. The boy was so relaxed from his previous orgasm, his hot bath, and from the warm oil Severus was using, that he didn’t seem to be feeling much pain at all.

“Oh!” he said again.

Slowly Severus withdrew his fingers and reached down to slick his own cock. He did not think he had ever been as hard as he was this very moment. The almost painful throbbing of his cock was telling him he could not wait much longer.

“Are you ready for me, Harry?” he asked, but the boy did not answer him. His head lolled back against the pillows and he was making a keening noise at the back of his throat.

His cock was almost as hard as Severus’ and considering the boy had just come rather spectacularly in the bath, it was testament to how aroused he was that he could be hard again so soon, even considering his age of raging hormones. Severus’ hands were slick with oil, and he ran his fingers along the boy’s hard organ. Harry screamed.

“Now! In me now, p-p-please!” He was keening again, a desperate sound. 

Severus moved the boy’s legs so that one was resting on his thigh and the other on his shoulder. Severus slicked himself once more, just to be sure, then placed his weeping cock at the puckered entrance and began to ease himself into the tight, hot channel. Oh, Merlin! The boy is so tight, Severus thought, as he pushed himself into the molten heat. 

Harry was whimpering again, panting as he struggled to accommodate the rock hard shaft that was piercing him. Severus moved his hands to the boy’s hips, gently stroking the prominent hip bones. Harry was bucking wildly against his lover when he suddenly stretched his arms above his head and grabbed the mental bars of the headboard; then, with the extra purchase he gained, he rammed himself fully onto Severus cock.

This time they both screamed. Severus almost came then and there. The feeling of that deliciously narrow, hot channel surrounding his cock, dragging him in, the involuntary spasms the boy was making as his body tried to recover from the shock, and the sight of this beautiful male body impaled on Severus’ cock, almost proved too much. But Slytherin determination kicked in and Severus hung on, growling and sweating with the effort. Severus knew he could not finish the coupling, not yet. He had to complete the bond first; he had to bite Harry, thus making the Gryffindor his consort. Once that was completed, then they could indulge their sexual fantasies to their hearts’ content. 

One thing Severus knew for sure: he wanted the bond and he wanted this beautiful boy in his life, now and forever. Whether this change of emotion for the young man had come from the bond or had been locked away somewhere inside himself all these years – he didn’t care. He wanted to spend his life discovering the person behind the brief glimpses he had caught of Harry. A Harry who seemed to be nothing like his father at all. He knew, all at once, that a little taste of Harry would never be enough.

Then Harry moved again and Severus knew he was very close to losing control. Severus reached out and lowered the calf resting on his shoulder just a bit so that the lower portion of Harry’s thigh was close to his mouth, then leaned in, licking the skin with his tongue. Harry’s whimpers turned into a litany of begging. ‘Please, please, please’ was whispered over and over again. Once more Severus laved the area. “Are you mine, Harry?” he asked.

“YES!!” Harry screamed. “OH, GOD, YES!” and Severus bit down.

*************

Harry was awash with sensation: first the bath, then the glorious orgasm, and now this. Nestled as he was in his pile of soft pillows, Harry felt safe, treasured. Severus had done this to him; Severus had given him pleasure the like of which he had never known. Even after the orgasm in the bath, he was still taking care of Harry, caressing him, stroking him, whispering sweet words.

Now Harry was desperate to feel the man inside him – he had a vague idea he had even asked for it, he wasn’t sure – he only knew he had an aching desire to be filled when he felt something firm enter him. It pushed through the ring of muscle that protected his anus, and it was stroking his channel; it felt completely and utterly amazing. Harry could hear himself whimpering. Severus was inside him, he was a part of him. Fucking hell it felt fantastic. He wanted more, and he could hear himself begging and pleading as Severus slowly inserted more fingers. 

It hurt! It fucking burned, but it felt wonderful, too. Every time Severus touched him it was like fire on his skin; he was awash with flame, burning alive. Severus was doing this, awakening sensations in Harry he hadn’t known were there. He was touching him inside and out. Severus’ fingers were inside him, in a secret place, a hidden place, a place Harry had never even considered to be a source of pleasure until that night.

Severus was speaking, but Harry barely heard it over the rush of excitement he felt. _Do you want more? Do you want me inside you?_ As the waves of desire grew in intensity, Harry felt waves of frustration increasing as well. More? Want More? Of course he fucking did! What the fuck did Snape think he was begging for? He managed an affirmative mumble then went back to babbling, to pleading, his concentration centred on the new feelings overwhelming him.

Then he felt it. Something much larger than fingers was pushing inside him, filling him, threatening to split him in two. It was pushing in slowly with infinite care. It burned, satisfying him with its searing thickness, like a hot poker that glided gently into his body. Harry never would have thought Severus capable of something so intimate, so caring, and even though he knew he eventually wanted to feel lovemaking like that, right now he wanted it hot and hard. Reaching for the bars of the headboard, Harry wrapped his legs around Severus’ waist and forced his body onto the firm length that was splitting him in two.

Harry had always been somewhat reckless, unthinking of the consequences, but this time he thought he just might have gone too far. This time he was going to be torn apart. It was agony, absolute bloody agony. He screamed and Severus screamed…and then it wasn’t agony anymore. Severus’ cock brushed up against something inside him, and it was as if his brain exploded in a kaleidoscope of coloured fireworks, infusing him with pleasure. The pain had receded as fast as it had come, now just a dull ache. He could not speak, almost he could not breathe. All of Harry’s being was concentrated on the cock that impaled him. 

Severus was speaking but Harry could not concentrate enough to understand his words. He was nuzzling at Harry, he could feel the older man’s hair tickling the skin on the backs of his legs. Severus licked Harry’s thigh and Harry screamed again; he tried to move, to wriggle free. It was too much, more than he could handle…he had to get away from the ever-mounting intensity.

He knew he was begging, but who would have thought he could be so sensitive there? On his inner thigh of all places. Severus was moving again, inside Harry, and Harry was lost in sensation once more.

Again Severus licked him. It concentrated the overwhelming feelings Harry was experiencing in one place, one patch of super heated skin.

“Are you mine, Harry?” Severus asked, his voice low and thrilling. It seemed to speak to Harry’s very soul.

“YES!!” Harry screamed. “OH, GOD, YES!” 

Severus bit down at the same time he hit that special place inside Harry with his cock. Harry felt his brain exploding again and suddenly he was coming and coming. With his vision fading out and a roaring in his ears, Harry managed to scream just one word before the darkness overwhelmed him. It was a word he meant from the very bottom of his heart.

“YOURS!” 

*************

The boy had fainted. But then Severus had nearly fainted too, what with the young Gryffindor squirming and spasming around his cock. It had been the most incredible experience of Severus’ life. He’d had plenty of sex, but nothing close to the intense passion he had just experienced. Carefully, he pulled out of the boy, wincing a little as he did so. Merlin, he would be sore tomorrow, but then, so would Harry.

What had possessed the boy? What had possessed Harry to impale himself like that? Not that it hadn’t been fucking fantastic, but he worried that he might have hurt Harry. Something he was extremely loath to contemplate. Severus treasured the tenderness he felt towards the boy; and he felt humbled at how much Harry had given of himself this night: so much trust and such pleasure.

With a shudder Severus remembered the years he had spent belittling the boy, even hating him; thus it was with amazement that, on this very night, when asked, Harry had accepted and trusted without protest, surrendering _everything_ , his very life, to his erstwhile adversary. It was the most precious gift anyone had ever given him. It was also a very humbling experience for the proud Slytherin and one he was not going to let go unlearned nor one he would ever betray. He lay a tender kiss on the boy’s damp forehead and whispered a personal vow to dedicate his life to making Harry’s one of joy and fulfilment and, most importantly of all, _love_.

Casting a quick Scourgify on them both and then on the sheets, Severus pulled himself up until his head rested on the pillow. He then pulled Harry gently into his arms and, covering him carefully with the blanket, he snuggled down with Harry in his arms. The ‘hero of the wizarding world’ seemed to have fallen asleep; his dark head lolled on Severus’ chest, and Severus could not help the self satisfied smirk that crept, ever-widening, over his features.

 

************

 

Severus knew this day had forever changed his life. The Da…Voldemort been dispatched to his final resting place – in Hell _no doubt_ , sent there by the slender boy who was cuddled against him. 

Severus contemplated with awe the news that he was to become an official hero of the war, that there would be no repercussions for his actions…it was an incredible feeling. Apparently, during their talks just after the hostilities had ended, Harry had told Kingsley Shacklebolt everything about his role in the war; and – he had initially heard this with an eyebrow raised in patent disbelief – Kingsley had assured Harry he would make it so. 

His Harry – so passionate, so responsive – had come looking for him in that lonely place where he had been left to die; and now this wonderful creature belonged to him forever. The last word the boy had screamed out had merely confirmed it. Somehow they were inextricably linked, for all time. The journey that had begun when Severus had shown Harry his memories was now complete, and nothing would take the boy away from him. Harry was redemption, he was absolution, and he was unconditional love. Severus knew it to be true from his mind to his heart to the very depths of his soul.

Just before Harry had passed out, Severus had been awash with memories - memories that were not his own – of a child abandoned and unloved, of a young man forced to carry burdens no one so young should have to face.

Somehow Severus knew things about Harry that he never thought would be possible. He had asked Harry to be his, and Harry had given him everything, even a glimpse of his soul. Severus was awed and humbled. He knew things would be hard for them; tomorrow they would have to face the world, if they could walk, Severus thought, with another wry smirk.

He would find his grandfather, Severus promised himself, find out more about the bond and what it meant for both of them. But for now he had his Harry. This wonderful, brave, loving boy was a part of his life, a part he never could let go no matter what challenges the future held. He had been right all along, a _little_ taste of Harry would never, ever be enough…

 

_finis_


End file.
